Strength
by Kathleen Mavourneen
Summary: Rinko can't really put into words how she feels about Jade. Sometimes, feeling are just ineffable. But when Jade is injured during his match with Ricardo, she finds herself getting a little braver. Maybe she'll confess, maybe she won't. And maybe Brocken Jr. isn't quite so bad after all.
1. Chapter 1

**STRENGTH**** \- CHAPTER 1**

Rinko stared at the hospital floor - a speckled white surface covered in scuff marks, reflecting the bright, florescent lights overhead. She turned and squinted at the wall clock. The second hand made only one revolution since the last time she checked. She shifted in her chair. Over an hour of sitting on an uncomfortable, plastic surface hurt her lower back. She thought a hospital would have slightly more ergonomic chairs. She slumped, slowly sinking until her chin met her chest, then tilted her head toward the ceiling and sighed.

A nurse behind the waiting room glass shook her head at the childish display of boredom. Rinko wanted everyone in the room to see how dismayed she was at _waiting_. But this nurse would not budge - no matter how loud and how often Rinko sighed and fidgeted.

"We have plenty of reading material if you're bored," the nurse's monotone voice matched her lethargic movements as she slowly pointed a sharpened pencil in the general vicinity of a stack of magazines.

Rinko quickly sat up at the sound of the nurse's voice.

"_Please_, can I see him?" Rinko begged, clasping her hands together.

"As I've said before: no fans allowed. Family only."

"But I'm not a _fan_. I'm a _friend_."

"If I had a dollar for every young girl that came into the hospital hoping to see her wrestler-crush, I'd be able to retire a decade early. What do you expect him to do, wake up to your pretty face and instantly fall in love? Sweetheart, he's a _wrestler_. He has more girlfriends than he does opponents."

Rinko bit her lip and crossed her arms - Jade was _not_ like that.

The nurse produced a medium-sized purse from underneath her desk. She unclasped the magnetic button that held it shut, and rummaged for something. Loose change, keys, and small items bounced and clicked off each other until she pulled out a plastic make up bag. She procured a nail file from the smaller bag, and held it up to examine the sand-paper like surface. The first side was marred with scratch marks and too smooth to be of use. She flipped it over to expose an un-used, grainy texture.

As the nurse filed her nails, Rinko slid back in her chair, defeated.

* * *

Brocken Jr felt his stomach inch closer to his chest as the elevator descended. Hospitals were the antithesis to wrestling. This particular hospital was so quiet, that its internal noises permeated every space: the wheeling of carts, the beeps of machinery, the hiss of air through the vents. Everything smelled like the color white - like alcohol and cleanliness, powdered gloves and freshly laundered sheets.

Jade's room was a few doors down from other patients so as not to cause a disturbance. The German wrestler faded in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently. His head, neck, and back were severely damaged, and the doctors were concerned that perhaps his motor skills and walking might be affected long-term.

Brocken was glad to hear the doors of the elevator hiss open. Sedatives kept Jade in a blissful slumber, and in the silence, the older man could hear his own stomach grumble. Now that he had a moment to himself, he felt the pangs of hunger. He honestly could not recall what he had eaten that day, and had the suspicion that it was, in fact, _nothing_.

* * *

Rinko surrendered, and picked up a magazine. She brought it back to her chair and flipped through several advertisements until she reached a folded-over page that contained a perfume sample. She gently pulled the page apart and sniffed... _Too strong_! She fought the urge to sneeze as she scanned the newest purses, makeup, and clothes.

A loud beep echoed through the empty room, and Rinko turned her head to see who was coming out of the elevator. She would wait here for days if it meant watching Jade walk through those automatic doors. Brocken's polished boots and tattered coat filled her vision. While he was not Jade, he was the next best thing. Rinko sat up quickly and nearly knocked her chair over with excitement.

"Brocken! I'm so glad to see you!" She ran to the German coach and almost embraced him - but she thought better of it, and kept her hands to herself.

Brocken looked down at the high school student. Her pig tails bobbed a few times before settling into place. His eyes wandered over her shoulder, to a veritable base of operations - her belongings surrounded a plastic chair: backpack, books, headphones, empty snack wrappers... Her intentions were clear - she planned on staying for quite some time. He knew when to spot a young, love-struck fan.

"So..." Rinko shuffled her feet a few times, and pulled at the sleeve of her shirt, "How is Jade doing?"

Brocken sighed. There really was no point in hiding information, "It does not look good," he said with a stern face, "there is much damage. The doctor's feel that his head and neck injuries might affect his walking and fine motor skills."

Rinko, surprised by his response, took a step back. That was not the answer she expected. Jade was a _super-human_! He watched as she lowered her head, eyes in line with a smudge of dirty on the floor. She narrowed her gaze to that one spot, her focus intense as she willed herself not to cry. She wiped at the corner of her eye with an index finger, smudging a bit of makeup. One, lonely tear threatened to fall, but she managed to keep herself composed. The last thing she needed was the famous Brocken Jr thinking of her as a weak little girl.

Brocken stepped around her, but Rinko's arm shot out and hooked around the crook of his elbow.

"Where are you going?" she questioned, with a bit of pleading in her voice.

"I'm going to get some lunch."

At the mention of food, Rinko's stomach growled loudly. She covered her mid-section with her arms in a feeble attempt to somehow shush her internal organs. She blushed a bit from the embarrassment.

"Would you..." Rinko started to say something, but she fumbled with her words, "Would you mind if I..."

Brocken knew what she wanted to say, but he enjoyed the immense nervousness caused by his piercing stare. After a few moments, his annoyance waned, and his inner-choujin scolded him for taking pleasure in her discomfort. His features softened - _by only a little bit_ \- and he sighed in exasperation, "You can come and have lunch with me."

Rinko instantly brightened, hands no longer toying with themselves in nervousness. Brocken regretted his decision, but there was no going back now. He was a man of his word, even if begrudgingly so.

* * *

Brocken opened the door to a small ramen shop and guided Rinko to a spot in the back, away from the other patrons. Hushed whispers followed her footsteps, and she felt a speck of pride. Others appeared to be jealous of her company. A man placing large, steaming bowls in front of customers looked up to see what all of the noise was about. He nearly spilled hot soup all over the floor and the nice pant-suit of a female professional at the sight of Brocken, but steadied himself just in time.

He rushed to their table and bowed deeply, "Mr. Brocken, sir! Can I get you the usual today?"

"Yes."

"And for you, Miss?"

"She will have the same."

Rinko _had_ grabbed a laminated menu from a wire holder. She looked at Brocken with squinted eyes, and he could see that she had placed a finger on the menu item she desired.

"You will eat what I pay for."

She put the menu back.

Two large bowls of ramen materialized in no time at all. Rinko grabbed a pair of chop sticks from a container. They were packaged like straws, and she tore at the paper to pull them out. She tugged each stick gently, and they snapped apart. She was about to hand a pair of utensils to Brocken, but found that a shiny piece of silverware sat on top of his napkin. Brocken ate his ramen... With a fork.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Don't tell me you've never used chop sticks before."

He picked up his fork and twirled it beneath the broth to wrap the curly noodles around the four prongs.

"Seriously? You've been in Japan for _how_ long, and you still don't know how to use chop sticks?"

She grabbed the fork after he took his bite, and shoved a pair of chop sticks into his hands - "Do it right."

It was strange to see the menacing Brocken taken down by two small sticks. He held the sticks in either hand, not quite sure how to go about eating. The concept of using two blunt objects to eat... Soup? Rinko took his hands and moved his fingers so they rested on the wooden sticks properly.

"See. Now just move you fingers like so, and it makes them go up and down. Now you can eat your food."

Brocken tried to scoop up some noodles, but they fell back into the broth. After a few attempts, he finally managed to clump some noodles together, and lifted them from the bowl. The problem, this time, was getting them to his mouth. Wrapped around a fork, the noodles could be eaten with little mess and little... Slurping. With chop sticks, they hung down and he would have to lift them over his head to drop them into his mouth, or he would have to slurp them up like a child.

He choose the latter. As he sucked up the last bit of noodle, it flicked and splattered broth across his face. He dabbed his nose with a napkin and Rinko thought he blushed, if only just a little bit.

"I do not like this," he said, and placed the chop sticks down. He held out his hand, and Rinko gave him back his fork with a long, over-dramatic sigh.

"Fiiiiine."

They ate in silence, Rinko making the occasional slurping sound as she sucked up her lunch like a vacuum. A few moments passed before Brocken decided to ask her a question:

"Why are you fawning over my student?"

Rinko choked a little before letting her noodles fall back into the bowl.

"Ummm..."

She _knew_ why she liked him so much. It's just that... Sometimes feelings are ineffable, that's why they're called _feelings_. She hated having to come up with the words, and feared her hesitation to answer his question made her unsure in his eyes. She gripped her chopsticks harder and looked down at her cloudy soup, watching as little shiny flecks of fat moved over the surface.

"I guess I like him because he's not Nisei. I know it sounds weird, but just hear me out..."

She was quiet for a moment, searching for the right words, "He trains like he wants to get better. Like he wants to be the best. Like he believes he's already the best and he's scared that someone's going to catch up. But he's not arrogant about it. He's... A nice guy.

He's a good choujin. Like, not just good at fighting, but he really believes in what it _means_ to be a choujin. I don't think he'd ever use his status to his advantage.

Plus, you know... He's cute."

She added the last bit without really thinking, and stirred her soup around before lifting more noodles to her mouth. She couldn't speak if she was chewing. That would be rude.

Brocken let out what she assumed was an approving _grunt _before going back to his meal, but he may have simply scoffed at her... She wasn't quite sure.

* * *

Rinko slung her backpack over one shoulder as they left the ramen shop. She followed brocken's heavier footsteps, and noted how he turned his neck to glare at her from the corner of his eye.

"I'm going back to the hospital, Brocken, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I will stay in that waiting room for as long as it takes."

"I'm sure you will." Brocken faced forward, and smiled a little at her perseverance.

When the sliding glass doors of the waiting room beckoned them in, she abruptly turned from Brocken and headed toward the uncomfortable chairs. He grabbed the handle of her backpack and yanked forcefully. Rinko yelped in surprised, but calmed down when she realized that he was pulling her toward the elevators.

* * *

Jade had a brace around his neck and two large, black eyes. They were puffy, still swollen, and she wondered if seeing him in this state really was the best idea.

She took a seat on a padded stool by his bed. She swiveled around to mouth "thank you," to Brocken, but realized that he had not entered the room with her.

She slowly turned back to Jade, and brushed a few strands of hair away from his eyes. She trailed a tentative arm down the length of his bed until she hovered over the bump under his blanket that was his hand. She hesitated before placing her hand on top of his. The movement must have stirred him, because she could feel his fingers twitch and he looked almost panicked when he realized that he could not move his head.

She stood and leaned over him, her face inches away from his bruised eyes. They fluttered open - only half-way - and the whites of his eyes were red and blotchy. She wondered if he could even see her face.

"Rinko..." It was barely a whisper.

He struggled to open his eyes a little wider, and loosened his fingers from her grip.

"Have you been crying, fräulein?"

"What? No... I haven't been crying."

But she was about to. She could feel the sting in her throat, and her vision blurred just slightly.

"Then why did your eye-makeup smudge?"

She heard the rustle of fabric. He lifted his hand from the blanket, palm molding to the contours of her face, thumb stretching out to gently wipe away a bit of black from the corner of her eye.

Huh. So she went that whole afternoon with smudged eye-liner, and Brocken didn't say a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**STRENGTH - CHAPTER 2**

Rinko knew it was going to rain. The weather forecast called for poor air quality, and she could see a thin veil, almost like mist, when she looked at the tree line. Her homework felt wet, the paper oddly pliable, and it tore easily when she erased a mistake.

Her office-like chair had a nice swivel, and she leaned back, feet on her desk. She sighed, and used the desk as leverage to push herself backwards. The wheels traced a darkened path on her carpet. She stopped at a mirror, and growled when she saw the aftermath of the humidity. Her hair was a_ mess_.

"Ugh," she whined, and got up to retrieve a hairbrush. She removed her pony-tail holders and watched as her hair poofed outward—she could have sworn it was accompanied by a sound effect—like the release of a tightly-coiled spring. The brush was not helpful. If anything, it added static and more frizz.

"I give up!"

She fell onto her bed dramatically, but realized her eyes were now in line with the light of her lamp. She placed a pillow over her face and pressed down slightly while she tried to muffle her teenage cries of agony.

She hadn't seen Jade in three days. Three long, _awful_ days.

* * *

Brocken Jr gripped a bottle of water, and squeezed a few times. The thin plastic made a crinkle-like sound, and got Jade's attention. He could see that the water was cold. Brocken set the bottle on a small table by Jade's bed, and condensation traveled down the sides and pooled just a little bit. He reached for it, but Brocken smacked his hand away.

"You must get to the water if you are thirsty."

He kicked the table, very slightly, and its small wheels squeaked along the floor, slowly, until it came to rest against the opposite wall.

Jade licked his lips, suddenly feeling very parched.

"You look quite thirsty. Why don't you get up and have a drink?"

"This is not fair, Herr Brocken!"

"No, I suppose it's not." Brocken smirked, picked up his heavy jacket from an adjacent chair, and made his way toward the exit, "Try and get some sleep, Jade. Tomorrow the real work begins."

Jade waited until he could no longer hear Brocken's boots against the tiled floor. He waited an additional few seconds, just in case, then reached an arm underneath the mattress of his hospital bed.

He talked Seiuchin into buying him a small, pre-paid flip phone. It was hard to use—auto-correct, paired with his large hands, made him re-write several text messages. The back-light of the screen glowed against his skin. Each button made an archaic dialing sound as he punched in his message one letter at a time.

To Seiuchin, Gazelleman, Mantaro, Kid (group text): ARE YOU GUYS BUSY? HERR BROCKEN JUST LEFT.

Gazelleman: Training

Seiuchin: Training

Kid: Training

Mantaro: Why are you yelling at me?! Also—training.

Seiuchin: Ask Rinko to visit ^.^

Jade: PROBABLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL WORK.

Seiuchin: -_-;

Jade: WHAT?

Seiuchin: Bakka!

* * *

Rinko's phone buzzed one time, then stopped. She tossed her pillow aside, and groaned as she sat up, fingers loosening their grip on her hair brush. _I really hope it isn't Tamaki... I just can't deal with people today. _She sat on the edge of her bed for a few more moments, as if she were accumulating the physical strength to lift herself from her perch. With an overly-dramatic sigh, she was so _good_ at those, she found the energy to take the few steps forward and pick up her phone.

A pixilated .GIF of a sheet of paper on the front of her phone indicated that she had a text message. She flipped the cover open with her thumb, and clicked over to "messages."

She had one new text. From _Jade_.

"Oh, my God..." Her eyes widened for a moment, and she felt a nervous tingle in her chest. She took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her stomach. She suddenly did not feel very well. Nausea swept over her body, and she felt like she had to sit down again. _Just read the text, dummy... _She _really_ wanted to read the text message, but her uncertainty of its contents held her back. What if he _wasn't_ confessing his love for her? What if he _wasn't_ asking her to visit him?

Her thumb hovered over the "OK" button... She pressed down, then closed her eyes for a moment. She sighed, gathered her courage, then opened her eyes.

Jade: HERR BROCKEN JUST LEFT. WANT TO COME AND VISIT?

"OH, MY GOD!" Rinko's grimace turned into a smile, and she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Okay, okay," she said to herself, "You've got this... Just wait, like, five minutes. Yeah. Text him back after five minutes. Don't seem so desperate... Oh, screw it."

She hit reply, and typed in her message.

Rinko: Sure, I'll come and see you. I'll leave in a few minutes.

She paused for a moment. Then hit the send button. She carefully set the phone down, and inhaled deeply. She exhaled slowly, trying her best to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

She only stood still for a moment—then she paced around her room frantically—_what do I wear?! _She asked herself, hands flying to grip her hair, _how do I fix this?! I look like a poodle!_

She ran to her mirror, and leaned over the dresser so her face almost touched the glass. Rinko surveyed the damage carefully – she could shower and just use a _literal_ ton of conditioner to hopefully smooth out the wrinkles. Really, her hair reminded her of the crumpled paper in her waste basket. She could unfurl the edges, try to smooth it out, but the lines and creases would probably never go away. But she couldn't shower – that would take too much time. And she would show up to the hospital with wet hair. Which, for some reason, she thought would be _weird_.

She could try some of that anti-frizz stuff in that pump under the sink. But if she remembered correctly, it was supposed to be applied to wet hair. She has this sinking feeling – that if she pumped that chemical-smelling, white glob into her palm, the application would just make her hair greasy.

There really was no other alternative. The best thing she could do was _own_ it.

* * *

She wore skinny, dark denim jeans, ballet flats, and a snug t-shirt. A compact umbrella swayed from her wrist as she walked down the sidewalk. She ultimately decided on _not_ dressing up – Jade would ask her something about her outfit, and she would stutter and get all embarrassed, and blurt out something stupid. She was glad that Jade's attention was almost solely placed on his wrestling career. He never noticed her fidgeting, the way she played with her hair, the way she could not meet his gaze, as if the floor was utterly fascinating.

Brocken Jr. was _different_. As a coach – he analyzed. He could take one look at his opponent and figure out a weak spot. He spent – maybe – an hour with Rinko and came to the conclusion that she was hopelessly in love.

_Hopelessly_. She didn't consider herself to be extraordinary by any means. There was nothing about her hair, physique, or personality that could mesmerize Jade. He would end up with a supermodel, or the daughter of a diplomat, or maybe even a real-life princess.

She guessed that's why she set up camp in the hospital's waiting room that day. She needed some sort of grand gesture to get his attention, to make him realize that she _existed_. Of course – Jade knew that she was a living, breathing, person – but did he really _acknowledge_ her? She never did get to tell him about it. He noticed her smudged make up, ran his thumb along her face in what she thought was a caring, romantic gesture.

Then promptly passed out again.

She couldn't read too much into it. He was probably hopped up on pain killers, and what the pain killers couldn't muffle, probably hurt so much it made him _crazy_.

But the palm of his hand, though only caressing her face for mere moments, was the best feeling in the world. His hand was so warm. His blanket was tucked all the way up to his neck, so his whole body radiated heat. She swore she could feel the heat escaping when he snaked his arm out from under the nurse's secure, tucked-in linens.

Everything about him dwarfed her. Despite the beeping machines, his white bed linens with the little blue dots, his silly, thin gown, and all the charts in a plastic holder on the door – he made her feel small, safe, and she felt that if danger approached, Jade would still get up and manage to save them. It wasn't just the muscles. He was tall. His hand took up the whole side of her head. She let her neck relax, so his palm held her up. His large palm and fingers curved to the shape of her head, squishing her cheek so it pressed up against her nose. Even though her eyes were focused on his face, she could see the blurry outline of his thumb run under her eyelid to kindly wipe away the offending black smudge.

She really wanted to wrap her fingers around his, to nuzzle her face into his calloused, dry palm. If he asked her about it, she would call him crazy, said it never happened, then turn the tables – she'd ask why he dreamed of such a gesture, and just maybe, he'd give their relationship a little extra thought.

But she didn't. She felt his fingers relax, his palm fall away, and heard a muffled thump as his arm fell back on the bed. His eyes closed, and his head probably would have rolled to one side, but that brace held it in place, and looked so uncomfortable. She wondered how he could possibly sleep with all of this stuff going on – the IV, the beeping, the lights, the brace, the unfamiliar setting. He must have been exhausted, and the simple action of lifting his arm was all he needed to expend the last remaining ounce of energy he acquired since his injury.

* * *

Rinko must have memorized the walk to the hospital, because she somehow managed to stand in front of the walkway that lead to the main entrance. The building was very bland. Very square, with a small patch of front yard. The yard was well taken care of, though. Someone probably went out and edged the grass on a weekly basis, because a very nice straight line separated the green blades from the cement path.

She was so lost in thought during her walk that she was not nervous. Now that she was suddenly out of her reverie, all of the nervousness from earlier just _hit_ her. It came up behind and pushed her like some bully on the playground.

_You have to go in, stupid. You can't see him if you don't, like, enter the God-damned building._

She clenched her fists, humphed, and walked forward with purpose.

* * *

**Author's Note: I uploaded the first chapter quite some time ago. It was _intended_ to be a one-shot, but over the last few days I found myself inspired. As you can probably guess, there will be at least one more chapter before the story is complete. For realz this time ;)**


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